The Penguin Cooks Up Some Trouble
by Kinsey Adelaide
Summary: Batman and Robin Dick and Bruce take on the Penguin, who is using a restaurant to facilitate his criminal schemes. Inspiration from both old-timey comics and the 1960s show
1. Chapter 1

**This is more in the vein of the Golden Age - Silver Age comics where Dick and Bruce get along really well. I'm not very good with angst!**

**Disclaimer: DC owns these guys, not I.**

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><p><strong>The Penguin Cooks Up Some Trouble<strong>

Dick Grayson sighed and slouched down lower in his seat. He was really regretting ever having expressed his interest in birds. If he hadn't, he could be at home with Alfred, eating popcorn and watching old movies (because God forbid Bruce ever let him go out unsupervised with non-superhero teens); instead he was _here_, in a tuxedo, sitting next to Bruce at the annual Gotham City Audubon Society Auction.

To be fair, it hadn't been a completely horrible night. The food had been pretty (not quite at Alfred standards, but, then, what was?) and the keynote address on the fighting techniques of ostriches had been awesome. However, the auction was interminable. There must have been hundreds of items and it didn't help that the auctioneer was allowing people to bid in increments of $1,000 rather than five or even ten thousand.

And it wasn't much better out in the lobby. Sure, he could get all the free Zesti Cola he wanted from the open bar, but, invariably, there was some society lady there who recognized him and had to come over and pinch his cheek and "oooh" and "ahhh" over how big he was getting. And yeah, he was getting big. He was thirteen (as of last month) and in seventh grade. He was way too old to be petted like a puppy by a bunch of over-perfumed women. But Bruce and Alfred would be very disappointed if he said anything rude like that, so he just decided to grin and bear it, slipping a smile and a "yes, ma'am" in when appropriate.

But Dick had never been so bored in his life. This was a thousand times worse than that big cat charity auction Bruce had taken him to a few months ago. At least there he had been able to tease Bruce about Selina. He had seen his efforts well rewarded; Bruce was sporting a pretty healthy blush by the end of the evening. But this – this was torture.

Dick tugged on Bruce's jacket. "Bruce, can we go now?"

"Go? We haven't even bought anything! Besides, it's only been an hour or so."

"An hour or so!" Dick had to struggle to keep his voice down. He pushed back his jacket sleeve and shoved his wristwatch in Bruce's face. "It's been at least three hours!"

Bruce snatched Dick's wrist and pulled it away from his face. "Well, we're not leaving. Just day dream or something."

Dick sighed, miffed that Bruce was ignoring his pain.

Sensing Dick was a tad peeved, Bruce leaned down and whispered, "Think up a route for patrol tonight."

"Really?" Dick whispered, super excited.

"Yes." Bruce nodded vigorously, turning back to the auction. "Go ahead."

Dick eagerly wiggled into a comfortable position and began to think. Bruce had to admit it was rather amusing. You could practically see him going over the streets in his head.

Granted Bruce would never alter his patrol route to suite the whims of a thirteen-year-old, especially one as adventurous as Dick, but the kid didn't need to know that. Let him dream.

But the auction continued to move at a snail's pace, much to Dick's chagrin. After he had created three different patrol routes in his mind, he decided to switch to day dreaming, thinking about his (much older) ex-babysitter Barbara Gordon, on whom his newly manufactured hormones had a bit of a crush. All of a sudden, he noticed that Bruce was jerking his arm around.

"Are you buying something?" Dick hissed.

Bruce gave him a look. "Of course. This is an auction, you know."

"But..." Dick was cut off by the auctioneer announcing the item was "Sold! To Mr. Wayne for $200,000!"

Dick's mouth hung open in shock. "That's insane!"

"It's for a good cause."

"So can we go now? I mean, you bought something."

"Not yet. There's only ten items left," Bruce wiggled the auction booklet in his hand, "then I have to pay. Then we can leave."

Dick groaned. "Ten items! That could take an hour. This auctioneer is soooo slow."

Bruce had to agree on that. "Why don't you go get some cola?"

Dick pondered whether it would be better to stay with Bruce and be bored or be accosted by middle-aged women while sipping a Zesti. He decided on the soft drink, especially when he remembered something else.

"Can I have some money?" he asked Bruce, fixing the billionaire with his best "pretty-please" look.

Bruce looked unconvinced. "Why do you need money? The soda's free."

"For the bake sale. Some ladies are selling treats out there, and I really want some chocolate cake."

"Fine." Bruce reached into his tux jacket and took out his wallet. "How much do you need?" he asked, reaching in and fanning out a few bills.

"This will work!" Dick slipped his smaller fingers in between Bruce's and grabbed whatever bill was closest. He then pocketed the cash, deftly leaped over Bruce's legs, and scurried out to the lobby.

Bruce frowned slightly as he looked at the bills he had left. Dick had gotten away with a fifty! "I better get some change," he thought.

A little over an hour later, Bruce emerged from the auditorium holding a box. Finally, the auction was over. He glanced around the lobby and finally saw his ward sitting on a recessed bench, slumped against the wall.

Bruce walked over to Dick, stood in front of the boy, and held out his hand. Dick reached out and gave him a high five.

"Where's my change?" Bruce asked.

"What change?"

"Don't tell me you ate fifty-dollars' worth of baked goods!" Bruce groaned a little at the mere thought of it. Alfred would have his head.

Dick grinned slyly at Bruce's worried expression. 'Not yet!" he announced, gesturing at two boxes sitting next to him on the bench. "The ladies are letting me take home an entire blueberry pie and a lava cake!" Dick looked especially eager for the lava cake. Bruce guessed that Dick had purchased the blueberry pie to placate him. He could hear Dick now, claiming "But there's fruit in it!" when he wanted to eat some for breakfast (or worse, make Bruce eat some for breakfast).

"So what did you eat?"

"Ummm, let's see. A piece of carrot cake," Dick paused to give Bruce a "see, it's almost healthy" look before continuing, "and some bunt cake and a fruit tart and some brownies."

"How many brownies?"

"Teeeee-"

"Dick." Bruce used his most serious "don't you lie to me" voice.

"Twenty..." Bruce gave Dick the look again. "Five."

"Twenty five?" Bruce asked.

"Give or take a few."

Bruce shook his head. "You are going to have a stomach ache, chum."

"Nah. I'm a growing boy. And I need brownies."

Before Bruce could reply, a woman came over. "Oh, Mr. Wayne, thank you very much for your generous donation to the Junior Audubon Society."

"My donation?"

She smiled and gestured at the empty table. "The bake sale."

"Oh, yes, of course." Bruce gave her a dazzling smile. "You're very welcome."

"The children will appreciate it, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce's ears pricked up at the word "children."

"Exactly what is the Junior Audubon Society, Ms...?"

"Higgins, Sandra Higgins." The two shook hands. "The Junior Audubon Society is for children ages 13 to 18."

"Perfect! I need to sign Dick up." He indicated his drowsy-looking ward. "Dick just turned thirteen a few weeks ago, in March."

Sandra Higgins clapped her hands. "Wonderful! I'll sign him up right away, Mr. Wayne." She smiled radiantly at Dick. "Now don't you worry, Dick, I'll make sure you're a member by May 15. That way you'll be eligible for our bird-watching summer camp. It's great! I know you won't want to miss it."

Dick smiled politely. "Wonderful. Thank you, Ms. Higgins. I appreciate it."

With a final delighted smile, Ms. Higgins left them.

Dick lazily looked up at Bruce. "Touché, my good man."

Bruce offered a hand to help his overstuffed ward stand up. "That'll teach you to spend fifty dollars on brownies."

"And cake and pie!" Dick protested, gathering up his boxes.

"And cake and pie," Bruce amended, herding Dick towards the door.

Alfred was already waiting for them at the curb. With a flourish he opened the door, and Dick and Bruce darted inside. As Alfred drove away, he asked, "So what did you purchase this evening, sirs?"

"Yeah, Bruce, what did you get?" Dick asked, leaning towards his guardian.

Bruce smiled and handed the box to Dick. "Open it."

Gingerly, Dick took the box and set it on his lap. He carefully opened the lid and peeked inside. A mass of tissue paper greeted him. After peeling back a few protective layers, Dick saw a golden bird. He reached inside and drew it out.

"Wow," was all he could say. "It's incredible."

And so it was. In his hands Dick held a solid gold robin, slightly larger than life size. The bird had diamonds for eyes and its red breast was a mass of inlaid rubies. Its carved golden wings were spotted with dozens of other precious gemstones.

"You like it?" Bruce asked.

Dick nodded, momentarily transfixed by the gleaming gold and jewels. "Yeah, it's amazing. So beautiful." Dick titled the robin so that the glow of the streetlamps reflected off its ruby-encrusted breast. The rubies flashed deep red in the light. "These rubies are gorgeous."

Bruce nodded in agreement. "And you know what else?" He held up the auction booklet. "Rumor has it P.T. Barnum used to own that thing."

For the second time that night, Dick's mouth dropped open in shock. "_The_ P.T. Barnum? Of Barnum and Bailey's Circus?"

"The one and only, kid."

"Wow." Dick held the robin in his hands, staring at it, and feeling a thrill. He was touching something P.T. Barnum had touched!

After a few minutes, Bruce casually commented, "Well, I'm glad you like it. You know, since it's yours and all."

"Mine?" Dick's voice broke a little in surprise and he blushed a little. Stupid puberty.

"Of course," Bruce said. "I can't think of anyone more suited to own a circus-robin than you. Can you?"

Dick just grinned and shook his head no. Quickly replacing the robin it its protective box, he launched himself across the backseat and hugged Bruce tight. "Thanks, Bruce. I really love it."

"I know," Bruce said, embracing Dick back. "As soon as I saw it in the program, I knew you had to have it. I can't think of anyone more worthy."

But the Penguin could. And no one had noticed him that night, lurking in the shadows of the Audubon auction, keeping careful note of who bought what. Soon he'd be doing some shopping of his own.

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><p><strong>The auction was somewhat inspired by the BTAS episode "Time Out of Joint."<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**The Penguin's Nest (the Penguin's Restaurant) comes from the 1960s Batman episode "The Penguin's Nest"**

**Disclaimer: I do not own them; DC does.**

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><p>A few days later, Dick was enjoying his pancakes while Bruce sipped coffee and read the morning's paper.<p>

"Not again," Bruce mumbled angrily to himself.

"What is it?" Dick "asked," grateful Alfred wasn't nearby to scold him for talking with his mouth full.

Bruce peered around the edge of the paper to give Dick a look before announcing, "Another precious jeweled bird has disappeared. Is your robin still safe?"

Dick nodded. He had checked again that morning. It was safe and sound, gleaming in the display cabinet, holding its own next to some of the Wayne family treasures.

"Any clues?" the boy queried.

"Nothing. Yet again, there's no evidence of a break-in. Nothing tripped the alarm, and the family was home all night."

"It's gotta be the Penguin, though, right? I mean, stealing birds is sort of his thing."

"Well, chum, you would think so. But Penguin's out on parole and making a clean start as a restaurateur."

Dick scoffed. "Really? He's running a restaurant? That sounds like a great place to use as a front for stolen goods."

Bruce looked pleased at Dick's insight. "I agree. Which is why we're going to have dinner there tonight."

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><p>That night, Dick and Bruce were surprised to find The Penguin's Nest full of customers. A sizeable portion of Gotham's elite and near elite was there; despite the $100 cover charge, the Penguin's new restaurant was clearly the place to go to see and be seen.<p>

The hostess showed Bruce and Dick to a table for two in a private corner. No sooner had she left, taking their coats to the coat-check, then the waiter appeared, ready for their drink order.

Bruce admiringly noted the prompt service. That was one mark in Penguin's favor.

"I'll take some mineral water and my ward will have milk, please," Bruce pronounced, every inch a billionaire used to being waited on hand and foot.

Dick frowned. He had rather hoped he could have something a little more exciting to drink tonight, but apparently, Bruce was going to be a stickler for healthy choices. Maybe he could at least get his guardian to lighten up when it was time for dessert.

After noting their drink orders, the waiter hustled off to the kitchen.

"Bruce Wayne and his kid are here, Penguin," he quietly announced.

Penguin grinned around his cigarette. "Wah! Wah! Wonderful. Be sure to let me know what Dickie-boy orders."

"Right, Penguin." And the waiter ducked back out.

Returning a few minutes later with their drinks, the waiter readied himself to take their orders.

Bruce ordered a steak. Dick, however, was unsure.

"Which do you recommend: the lobster or the lamb shank?"

The waiter paused, considering. Both were tasty; he was trying to remember the Penguin's directions. "Meat, the kids are supposed to eat meat," he recalled.

"The lamb is especially nice, sir. One of the chef's specialties."

"Okay. I'll have the lamb then." Dick handed the waiter his menu.

The waiter hurried back into the kitchen. "Penguin. Penguin!" When the Penguin turned to look at him, the waiter announced, "The kid ordered the lamb."

"Wonderful work, my watchful waiter," the Penguin grinned, waddling over to the meat freezer. "These lamb shanks hold the sleep-inducing drugs beautifully."

"Yeah, he almost got the lobster, but I talked him out of it."

"Marvelous." The Penguin was gleefully injecting a clear liquid into the lamb shank. "We couldn't have planned this better."

Bruce had to reluctantly admit that The Penguin's Nest had good food. Really good food. To be honest, it was infuriating. Bruce had been almost certain that the Penguin was somehow using this restaurant as a front for stolen goods, or to rob his wealthy patrons, or to do something nefarious. So far, nothing was out of the ordinary. No one had been robbed, the food was delicious, and the employees were all model professionals. It seemed like a dead end.

"Dick, why aren't you eating?" Bruce asked, concerned. Dick was just picking at his food and that wasn't like him at all. "I thought you liked lamb."

"I do, but..." Dick poked his lamb shank with his fork. "It tastes funny."

Bruce frowned. He didn't like it when Dick pulled a picky-eater routine. Reaching across the table, Bruce took a forkful of meat and ate it. "It tastes fine to me."

Dick wrinkled his nose in disgust and poked at the lamb again. "It has a funny aftertaste."

Bruce cocked his head to one side, concentrating on the flavors inside his mouth. He couldn't detect anything amiss. "You're imagining things. Now eat up, you're a growing boy."

Dick sighed and reluctantly took another bite of meat. This one was the worst tasting yet, and he made a face, swallowed quickly, then gulped down a huge swig of milk. "Yuck!"

Bruce sighed. He didn't want Dick making faces in a restaurant. That was bad manners. "Look, Dick, you want dessert, don't you?"

"Yes!" Dick said excitedly. Then he realized Bruce probably had some trick up his sleeve. He cautiously amended, "I mean, yeeeees."

"Well you can't have dessert if you keep making faces all the time. Eat normally."

"Bruce, I can't," Dick whined. "This lamb is gross."

"How are the vegetables, then?"

Dick poked at a piece of cauliflower. "They're okay." Who wanted to eat vegetables, though?

"Well, eat your vegetables and you can have dessert."

Dick snickered, but starting eating his vegetables.

"What are you laughing about?"

"You, negotiating with me like I'm eight again," Dick said around a mouthful of carrot.

Bruce gave a long-suffering sigh. "One, don't talk with your mouth full. Two, if you're going to be as persnickety as an eight year old, then you'll get treated like one."

Dick rapidly finished shoveling his vegetables into his mouth. "Can I get dessert now? Pleeeease?" he asked in his best small-child voice.

Bruce shook his head. "When the waiter comes back," he said, turning his attention back to his steak.

Meanwhile, the waiter had noticed that Dick wasn't eating his drugged lamb. Hurrying back to the kitchen, he reported the news to the Penguin.

"What a catastrophic culinary crisis!" the Penguin squawked. He feverishly glanced around the kitchen, and by pure luck, his gaze fell on the dessert tray. Remembering all the brownies Dick had consumed at the Audubon auction, he called out to the waiter,

"Offer him free chocolate cake, and pump that full of the drug!"

"But what about the aftertaste?"

"The chocolate cake is deliciously decadent enough to cover up any atrocious aftertaste. Now get moving! I want to visit Wayne Manor tonight."

The waiter hurriedly doctored up a huge slice of chocolate cake. Arranging it attractively on a plate, he then took it over to the Wayne table.

"Mr. Grayson, I noticed your lamb did not appeal to you. May I offer the chef's sincerest apologies and this cake as compensation?"

Dick's eyes widened with joy as he accepted the cake. "Thank you!" And before Bruce could say anything, he eagerly attacked the cake. After all, he was still pretty hungry.

Pleased that the plan was working, the waiter whisked away the offending lamb and returned to the kitchen to report the good news.

Bruce finished his steak and sat back watching Dick attack his cake. Something felt off, but he wasn't sure what. Was it the cake? The waiter had been awfully quick to offer Dick dessert, but maybe the chef just didn't want to make a bad impression. If word got out that Bruce Wayne and his ward hadn't enjoyed their meal, it could really hurt business.

Dick saw Bruce looking at his cake. He pushed it towards his guardian. "It's really good, Bruce. Try some." Reluctantly Bruce took a bite of the cake. It was good. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it.

At that moment, the waiter returned with the dessert tray. Bruce picked something a tad healthier than chocolate cake, while Dick enthusiastically asked the waiter for another piece. Bruce was tempted to put the kibosh on that request, but didn't want to ruin Dick's fun. What Alfred didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

On hearing that Dick wanted another piece of cake, the Penguin insisted some more of the drug be inserted.

"Won't that be too much, Penguin?" asked the waiter. "What if the kid ODs?"

"Ridiculous. He won't overdose," the Penguin sneered. "The worst that will happen is he'll get sleepy."

And sleepy was exactly what Dick became after finishing his second slice of cake. Although he was valiantly trying not to show it, Bruce could see that Dick was quite tired. Assuming it was a combination of digestion and exhaustion from school, it never occurred to Bruce that something might be amiss.

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><p>"Was everything in order, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked when the two returned home.<p>

"Sadly, yes," Bruce responded as he started to remove his necktie. He needed to get going on patrol. It was already after eight o'clock.

"So you think the Penguin has turned over a new leaf?" Alfred suggested, taking Bruce and Dick's coats over to the closet.

Dick yawned, although he tried to hide it behind his hand. "I doubt it, Alfred. Something has to be going on. We just don't know what."

"I agree," Bruce stated, turning towards Alfred, but keeping watch on Dick out of the corner of his eye. He saw the boy yawn again, then shake his head vigorously in an attempt to wake himself up. "Something felt off about the restaurant, but I can't put my finger on it yet. Maybe I'll find some clues tonight. Ready, Dick? Dick?"

Bruce turned to see Dick slumped against the wall, eyes half closed. Now THAT was unusual. Dick normally had energy to spare. "Must be working himself too hard at school," Bruce thought.

Walking over to Dick, Bruce gave the boy's shoulder a gentle shake. "Dick, chum, you okay?"

Dick jerked his head up, rapidly blinking the drowsiness away. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

"If you're tired, you can stay home and get some extra rest tonight."

"No way! I wanna go on patrol."

"Now, Master Dick, teenagers need more sleep than adults. Perhaps you should stay home tonight," Alfred suggested calmly.

"Awww, please can I come Bruce?" Dick pleaded.

"Well, we'll see. I'll meet you down in the Bat Cave."

As Dick slowly sauntered towards the grandfather clock, Alfred turned to look at Bruce. "You certainly don't intend to let him go out in a state like that, do you?" he accused.

"Of course not. He'll be asleep five minutes after he reaches the cave. I'll leave and you can put him to bed."

"Indeed, sir," Alfred replied laconically.

But Bruce was exactly right. When he reached the cave, he saw Dick had gotten no farther in his changing than taking off his shoes, socks, and suit jacket. After that, he had fallen asleep, slouched over in his chair. Without a word, Bruce hurriedly changed, hopped into the Batmobile, and took off, leaving Alfred with the unenviable task of getting Dick into bed.

Dick was a bit sulky when he realized that Bruce had left him behind, but Alfred would brook no arguing, and he was whisked off to his room. After being put through his before-bed paces by Alfred, Dick didn't have much time to pout. Within minutes of his head hitting the pillow he was asleep. Unbeknownst to Dick, Alfred, and Bruce, it was an artificially induced deep sleep, the kind people often experienced when they were on heavy-duty sleeping medication, and in which they were prone to sleepwalking or other sleep-behaviors. This, of course, was just what Penguin had intended.

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><p>With Bruce still out on patrol and Alfred down in the cave waiting for him, no one was around to see Dick stumble down the stairs shortly after midnight. Dick headed straight for the display case, and took out his golden robin, the one Bruce had so recently purchased for him at the Audubon Society Auction. Gently cradling the robin in his hands, Dick disengaged the alarm system and set off across the lawn. When he reached the gate, he knelt down, and reaching through the iron bars, placed his robin on the ground on the outside. He then turned and headed back inside, resetting the alarm on his way back to bed. On reaching his room, Dick hopped back into bed and kept sleeping as though nothing had happened.<p>

A few minutes later, a nondescript car pulled up on the road by the manor. One of the Penguin's underlings slipped out, and ran towards the front gates of Wayne Manor. He scooped up the gleaming golden robin and tucked it into his coat pocket. Jumping back into the car, the vehicle quietly drove off, with no one the wiser.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it took me so long to update – I just wasn't feeling inspired. Anyway, here's another entry. It's not as awesome as I hoped, but it helps move the story along.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own them; DC does.**

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><p>Bruce gently shook Dick's shoulder. "Dick, it's time to wake up." No response. Bruce shook his ward's shoulder a bit more vigorously. "Dick, you have school soon." Bruce tried again, shaking even harder. Finally, Dick groaned. "Unnnghhh"<p>

"Time to wake up, chum. You don't want to be late for school."

Dick slowly peeled one eye open, then the other. He groggily looked at Bruce, then slowly, slooooowly began to move.

Bruce was a tad concerned. Dick was usually quite easy to wake up in the morning (unlike him).

"Are you feeling okay?"

Dick yawned and finally managed to sit upright. "Yeah, I'm just still really tired."

Bruce came over and pressed his hand to Dick's forehead. He frowned in confusion; the boy felt normal.

Dick tilted his head slightly and peered up at Bruce in between the cracks between his guardian's fingers. "I just feel a bit groggy is all. I'm sure a shower will help wake me up."

Bruce removed his hand and nodded. "Probably. I'll have Alfred make you some breakfast tea."

Dick, who was on his way to the bathroom, paused and turned around. "What about coffee?" he asked with an impertinent, yet slightly tired, smile.

"No coffee." Bruce didn't believe children should drink coffee. Especially naturally energetic and active children like Dick. Tea was a gift; coffee was courting disaster.

Dick smirked. "Okay," he said pleasantly, darting into the bathroom. He hadn't really expected to be allowed coffee anyway.

Bruce was calmly sipping his morning coffee and reading the newspaper when he heard Dick scream. Thankfully, it didn't sound like a scream of physical pain, but Dick was undoubtedly in distress over something.

Bruce quickly set down his mug, tossed aside the paper, and raced towards the sound; Alfred, having come from the kitchen, was right on his heels.

The two met an extremely-upset Dick in the hallway. "It's gone!" he shrieked. "Gone!"

"What's gone?" Bruce asked.

"My robin! From the auction. The one you bought me. Once owned by P.T. Barnum."

Shock and surprise crossed the faces of both Bruce and Alfred. "Are you sure, Master Dick?"

"Yes!" Dick insisted, grabbing both Bruce and Alfred by the hands and dragging them into one of the many spacious display rooms inside Wayne Manor. He took them directly to the display case which had once housed his robin. Sure enough, there was an obvious empty space on the center shelf. The robin had definitely disappeared.

"I bet if I hadn't fallen asleep last night..." Dick trailed off, his voice a mixture of guilt and anger.

"Master Dick, this is most certainly not your fault," Alfred proclaimed, grabbing the young teenager by the shoulders. Dick continued to stare despondently at his shoes. "Look at me, Master Dick." Dick raised his head. Alfred looked directly into his eyes. "This is not your fault. You did nothing wrong. Do you understand?"

Dick nodded. He was still upset, but less angry.

"Don't worry, chum, we'll get it back," Bruce soothed. "And who knows, maybe this is the break we needed."

"Break you needed, sir?"

Dick's eyes widened and before Bruce could answer Alfred, he burst out, "All the other missing birds! You think the same person stole my robin."

"It stands to reason."

"We'll get him – or her," Dick added quickly.

Bruce nodded. He knew they were both thinking about the Penguin. "We'll get him all right."

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><p>After the police had left with their statements and finger-print evidence, Bruce started a little investigation of his own. Alfred had taken a protesting Dick to school (he had really wanted to stay home and help Bruce with the case) and was then running errands, so Bruce had plenty of time to himself. The first thing he did was take finger print samples, thankful the cops hadn't smudged away all the good prints. After that he went to check the alarms and security tapes.<p>

Because he was the Batman and paranoid, Bruce hadn't been entirely forthcoming with the police. He didn't want the cops to see how eerily quiet his huge mansion was at 9 PM, especially when there was so much activity at 3 or 4 AM (or thereabouts). Therefore, Bruce had claimed his cameras hadn't been turned on last night, feeding the cops some lame excuse about how the security alarm was enough for everyday situations. The police, of course, had bought the excuse hook, line, and sinker; that made sense to them, especially since they didn't have security alarms or cameras at their homes. Bruce knew that he could have given the police a doctored security tape, but he feared some IT specialist might detect something amiss. The chance was slim, but it was better not to take chances.

As for the alarm system, it was perpetually on because Bruce was paranoid. To prevent the alarm from being set off every time Alfred took out the trash or collected the mail or Dick spent his leisure time running in and out of the house, Bruce had programmed the alarm system to recognize the three primary residents of Wayne Manor. Whenever someone entered a door or a window, the system did a quick biometric scan and only sounded the alarm if the intruder didn't match the description of Alfred, Bruce, or Dick. As far as the police could tell, no one had entered Wayne Manor nor had the alarm been disabled. But Bruce had more detailed alarm-system read-outs in the Batcave.

Minutes later, Bruce was sitting in the Batcave in front of the Batcomputer, alarm-system read-outs in one hand and the security footage queuing up on the computer. Most of the alarm read-outs were pretty standard: Alfred going in and out, Dick going in and out a few times after school. Nothing out of the ordinary. Turning to this morning's read-outs, Bruce immediately saw something that surprised him: Dick had left the Manor (and quickly returned) a few minutes after midnight.

"That's odd," Bruce mused. "Dick was exhausted last night."

Now that he had some guidance on where to look, Bruce went to the security footage for midnight to 1 AM. With screenshots from multiple cameras covering the Batcomputer's screen, Bruce was astounded to see Dick tumble out of bed, head downstairs, remove his robin from its case, and take it outside. Switching to the outside cameras, Bruce saw Dick traipse across the lawn, place his robin just outside the gate, and return to the Manor. Back on the interior cameras, Bruce witnessed Dick return to bed, all within a five minute span.

Unfortunately, Dick had placed the robin just out of the camera's view ("almost like he did that on purpose," Bruce thought), so Bruce could not tell who or what carried it off. All he knew was that Dick had been moving awkwardly (without his usual impeccable grace) and appeared to have stolen his own robin – which was exceptionally out of character.

But when faced with the evidence, Bruce couldn't help but wonder: could Dick have stolen his own trinket?


	4. Chapter 4

**I made a mistake last time – I changed the alarm system between chapters 2 and 3. I hope no one minds!**

**Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorite, and alerted this story. I really appreciate it!**

**Super special thanks to ARL15 who is so loyal to this story that she inspired me to get back on track and finish this thing (which will happen eventually). Thank you so much!**

**Usual disclaimers!**

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><p>When Alfred brought a lunch tray down a short while later, Bruce was still deep in thought.<p>

"Have you made any progress, sir?" Alfred asked, setting the tray down in its designated spot near the Batcomputer.

Bruce swiveled in his chair. "Yes. Perhaps you might like to see the video?"

"I imagine it's more of a Batman-and-Robin-type job?" Alfred assumed the Penguin would be on the video; after all, Dick and Bruce had just been talking about him that morning.

"Yes, but I could use your help with something. It'll only take about five minutes."

"As you wish, sir." When Bruce turned his back, Alfred sighed inaudibly.

Bruce and Alfred both watched the security footage in silence. When it was finished, Bruce turned to Alfred. "Well, what do you make of that?"

"Apparently Master Dick's tiredness was not simply random teenage exhaustion."

"Alfred!" Bruce was somewhat exasperated. "He stole his own robin!"

"Master Bruce, don't insult my intelligence. You're the detective. Surely you did not fail to notice his strange behavior in that video."

"It could be an act!"

"An act!" Alfred's tone exploded with scorn.

"But why would he do it?" Bruce asked out loud to no one in particular; he had decided to ignore Alfred's last outburst.

"Why would you even think he would do it?" Alfred retorted.

"It doesn't seem like he hid it," Bruce murmured to himself, still ignoring Alfred. "Definitely seems like he stole it."

Alfred heaved a heavy sigh.

"It just doesn't make sense."

Alfred sighed again and began tapping his foot. He was getting tired of this.

"He doesn't even know how much I insured it for," Bruce commented.

"And you really believe Master Dick would steal his own robin for the insurance money?" Alfred asked drily, in a voice too loud to ignore.

Bruce paused, pulled out of his daze by Alfred's voice. "Well…. Would he?"

"Honestly, Master Bruce. Sometimes I wonder about you." Alfred's tone was the vocal equivalent of rolling one's eyes, which the butler would have done if not for his personal code of behavior. A true gentleman's gentleman never did anything so crass – no matter much his employer warranted it. "It's as though we're talking about two different people."

"What?" Bruce asked blankly.

"The Master Dick _I_ know would never steal. I, of course, have no idea how the fictional Master Dick with whom you seem to be acquainted would behave."

Bruce might not have had the best people skills, but he knew when he had been put in his place. "Right. Dumb question anyway."

"Your words, Master Bruce, not mine." Alfred turned to leave the cave. "But in a word: yes."

* * *

><p>It was after five o'clock when Dick finally reached the Batcave. Alfred refused to let him begin work on his night job until his homework was finished – and until Alfred had ample assurance that Bruce had returned to his senses.<p>

Dick was munching on a cookie when he came down. "Made any progress, Bruce?" he asked cheerfully (and with his mouth somewhat full).

"Yes, but don't you come near the computer until you've finished that cookie. No crumbs by the computer, remember?"

"Yes, sir," Dick sighed, shoving the cookie into his mouth and chewing most inelegantly. He swallowed with a gulp. "Soooo, what's up?"

"Watch this video." Bruce had spliced all the relevant parts together into one smooth sequence.

Five minutes later, Dick was standing there dumbfounded and utterly crushed. "I-I-I d-d-d-did it," he stammered, his eyes filling with tears.

For a moment, Bruce mentally panicked. Where was Alfred? Then he reached over and pulled Dick into a tentative hug. "No, Dick, it wasn't your fault. Something was wrong with you. You saw how you walked strangely."

"But I did it," Dick sniffed forlornly, rubbing at his eyes.

"No, no," Bruce soothed as best he could, rubbing Dick's back. "I watched that video a hundred times. I think maybe you were drugged."

"Drugged?" Dick brightened a tad.

"Yes. See here." Bruce rewound the video, then pointed to Dick's stumbling walk over to the robin case. "The way you walk right there. Dragging your right leg."

"Uh-huh," Dick nodded.

"That's consistent with drug-induced sleep walking. Probably a drug with a high concentration of …."

Bruce named some fancy chemical Dick had only vaguely heard of. The boy's mind was elsewhere. "So it wasn't my fault?"

"Of course not," Batman said, feeling a bit guilty for having doubted Dick a few hours before.

"Thank God," Dick breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"So, if you were drugged, it –"

"It had to be something at The Penguin's Nest!" Dick interrupted. "I only felt bad after dinner."

"True." Bruce nodded his head. "And we've already suspected the Penguin. And something felt off about his restaurant."

"So instead of his restaurant being a front for stolen goods he turns people into stealing zombies."

"Zombies? Really Dick?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"You saw me on that video. I was like a zombie!"

"But how does he do it?"

Bruce and Dick both ruminated for a few minutes. Suddenly, Dick shouted, "The food!"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "That's rather obvious. It's a restaurant, chum."

Dick stuck out his tongue at Bruce. "He puts a drug in the food."

"Your evidence?"

"My gross-tasting lamb from last night."

"There was nothing wrong with your lamb."

"There was so! It was nasty. And I bet it was nasty because the Penguin drugged it."

"But you hardly ate any of your lamb."

"Well, maybe he put it in the chocolate cake, too!"

"That's almost absurd enough to work," Bruce mused.

Dick crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, since we don't have any other hypotheses…."

Bruce half-smiled. "To The Penguin's Nest!"

* * *

><p>"Who should we watch?" Robin whispered. "This place is packed again."<p>

"Just a moment," Batman responded. "I'm cross-referencing tonight's diners with the purchasers of high-value bird items from the Audubon auction."

After a few moments, Batman had his answer. "Okay, only two potential targets tonight. The Shaws, who bought the jewel-encrusted magpie, and the Leonards, who purchased the toucan."

Robin scanned the room. "And they are?" He didn't recognize Gotham's socialites with quite the same ease as Batman.

"The Shaws are on my side of the restaurant. Older couple in the corner. Mrs. Shaw's wearing a coral sweater."

Robin looked in their direction. "Right. I see them."

"The Leonards are on your side. The mother, father, and teenage daughter third from the left. Daughter's in a blue dress."

"I see them."

"Good. You watch the Leonards; I'll watch the Shaws."

"Roger."

Many agonizingly boring minutes ensued. Nothing happened. The families both ate their meals without incident. No one complained about their food. No one seemed tired – not even Mrs. Shaw who personally consumed the greater portion of an entire bottle of red wine. Batman allowed both families to leave without finding it necessary to follow them back to their homes (of course, Batman knew where they lived). Robin was incredibly disappointed.

Since it was during the week, the restaurant closed at 10 PM. Once the Penguin and his cronies had left, Batman and Robin slipped into the kitchen to have a look. Robin was desperate to find Penguin's cache of drugs and chocolate cake; otherwise, he feared Batman wouldn't take his hypothesis seriously anymore.

The two started at opposite corners of the kitchen, searching for drugs and infected food. Batman had prepared a series of litmus strips to dip into sauces or smear food on to see if they tested positive for the chemical he believed the drug contained.

As the two searched refrigerator after refrigerator and cupboard after cupboard, testing various items, Robin asked, "So whose birds have been stolen again?"

Batman patiently listed the families and their birds. "And they did all eat at The Penguin's Nest the night their birds were stolen. I checked their credit cards."

Robin smiled. Of course Batman had.

"So we know the Penguin and his restaurant are involved. Possibly drugs, as you said. But we don't know who he might be drugging."

"Hmmm, yeah, tricky," Robin mused, sticking his head inside a cabinet in order to inspect it. As he looked through the ordinary collection of foodstuffs, he thought over the names of the families who had been robbed. Shaffer, Montooth, Garvey, etc. The names all seemed vaguely familiar. And not just familiar from Bruce's social scene; Dick felt he knew the names in some other capacity. As he moved on to the next cabinet, he had a revelation.

Jason Garvey was a senior at Gotham Academy (Dick's high school). And Lydia Shaffer also went to Gotham Academy. She was a top cheerleader, which accounted for why he had heard her name. As Robin went through the list of victimized families in his head, he realized that all of the names were familiar to him, courtesy of the Gotham Academy Directory.

"Teenagers!" he said suddenly.

"Teenagers?" Batman asked, puzzled, pulling his head out from under a work table.

"Yes, teenagers. All of the families have teenagers. Penguin is drugging teenagers and using them to steal!"

Batman's eyes widened beneath the cowl. "Of course. Teenagers."

"Yeah," Robin continued excitedly. "Teenagers won't activate their parents' alarms. Or else they know how to shut them off."

"And if the other thefts were timed like ours, many parents wouldn't even be asleep yet! They'd never realize anything was amiss because the alarms might not even be on!"

"And who would suspect kids anyway!" Robin jubilantly concluded.

"It is an excellent plan," Batman agreed.

Just then, Robin wrenched open a refrigerator. The force he had used to pry open the door had jarred the shelves, revealing a hidden drawer. Robin excitedly yanked it open, revealing several rows of neatly-organized vials. He had found the drugs!

"Here they are, Batman!" Robin exclaimed, holding out several vials of liquid. "I bet these are the drugs!"

Batman took a vial and visually inspected it. Deeming it safe to open, he removed the cap and dipped a litmus strip in. It tested positive. "Yes, this is it."

Robin did a little dance of excitement. "And look!" He gestured at another shelf in the refrigerator in question. "Chocolate cake." Robin enthusiastically tested a bit of cake.

"Awww, it came out negative," he moped. He turned to Batman. "But I'm sure he put it in the cake."

"Could be," Batman replied. "My guess is he injects it into whatever food his victim orders. After all, we haven't found any tainted food back here. Just the drugs."

"Yeah," Robin agreed, slightly disappointed his chocolate-cake theory hadn't been proven correct. "I wonder how much he puts in the food?"

"Wonder no more, Bird Boy!" quacked a sinister voice from the bowels of the kitchen. "And what are you doing in my kitchen, caped cretins! Don't you know too many cooks spoil the broth!"

"Holy cliché," Robin muttered as a large group of thugs rushed out from behind Penguin.

"Get them!" Penguin squawked, pointing his umbrella in their direction for good measure.

The thugs were immediately on top of them. Robin executed a series of flying leaps and flips, landing right smack in the middle of several thugs' chests, toppling them over.

Meanwhile, Batman was punching goons with surgical precision. Despite how many the two bested, more seemed to keep coming. The sounds of Pow! Crash! Boom! filled the kitchen.

When a couple of particularly-large men began menacing Robin, he nimbly flipped over them and made a dash for Penguin. Unfortunately, Penguin saw him coming and pointed his trick umbrella.

"Nice try, Bird Boy!" the villain cackled as Robin was enveloped by a net.

"Arrgh," Robin cried as he fell to the ground with a bump. Batman, hearing the noise, looked over.

"Hold on, Robin," the caped crusader shouted. As Batman lunged towards Penguin, the tricky bird shot a net at him. Batman easily sliced the net in half with his Batarang.

"You'll have to do better than that, Penguin."

"Wah! Wah! Wah! I will." In the dark, the Penguin reached for something.

"Batman, look out!" Robin shouted as he saw a large crate start to fall from the ceiling.

Robin's warning was too late. With a thud, the crate landed on top of Batman, who was knocked flat. With a gleeful waddle, the Penguin came over to Robin, holding a vial in his hand."

"Nighty, night, little birdie. Drink enough of this and you'll be asleep in a minute." The Penguin wiggled the vial in front of Robin's eyes.

"I'll never drink that!" the Boy Wonder hissed. But even as he said it, several (now recovered) thugs grabbed him, some holding his body down while others forced open his mouth.

With evident pleasure, the Penguin emptied the entire vial down Robin's throat. "Eww, gross," the boy shouted, but even as he said it he could feel himself getting sleepy. The drug was quite powerful and Penguin had just given him an extremely large dose.

"Grab the Bat," Penguin ordered. And as Robin drifted off into unwilling sleep, the last thing he saw was Penguin forcing the same drug down Batman's throat.

* * *

><p>The first thing Robin noticed as he groggily awakened was the smell of chocolate. The very intense, almost overpowering smell of chocolate.<p>

"Holy Hershey's," he mumbled, his words sleepily slurred.

"Robin? You awake?" Batman's voice was urgent and he sounded very awake.

"Ehhhh, kinda."

"Well wake up. We've got to get out of here."

Robin wearily pried his eyes open in order to ascertain exactly where "here" was.

"Are we -?" his question was interrupted by the Penguin.

"Suspended over a giant, bubbling vat of chocolate fondue?" Penguin quacked. "You are indeed, Boy Bird-Brain. I look forward to the delightful chocolate statues that will result."

"You jerk!" Robin shouted. "You won't get away with this!"

"Tut, tut, Wonder Midget. I most certainly will because you have less than five minutes to get out of there." With an evil laugh, the Penguin pulled on a comically-oversized lever and Batman and Robin (who were tied back to back) began their descent towards the fondue.

"Imagine! Actual death by chocolate," the Penguin rhapsodized.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Batman ground out in a low voice. Penguin just laughed, delighted with his own ingenuity.

Suddenly a door opened and an underlying stuck his head in. "Penguin, sir, the car's ready for the pick-up."

Penguin frowned. "Pooh. I shall miss the glorious death of Batman and Robin." He turned to look at his captives. "Save me a little chocolate, boys!" And with a wave and a waddle he was gone.

The heat of the fondue was suffocating as Batman and Robin moved ever closer to the bubbling surface.

* * *

><p><strong>Announcement courtesy of AJCrane:<strong>

**Will Robin become a chocolate bon bon?**  
><strong>Will Batman be a chewy chocolate center?<strong>

**Tune In Folks!**

**Same Bat Time**  
><strong>Same Bat Channel<strong>

**The worst is yet to come!**

* * *

><p><strong>From me:<strong>

**Will they make it? Find out next week – same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!**

**I hope no one minds the cheesy death-trap too much! And in the 1960s show, Penguin actually calls Robin "Wonder Midget" once!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you ARL15 for not abandoning this story. I am so tardy in updating. Alas.**

**Chapter 4 has been updated: just a little humorous addition (at the very end) from AJCrane. Thanks!**

* * *

><p>"Robin, quick," Batman hissed, "grab a capsule from the sixteenth pocket on my right."<p>

"Roger." Robin immediately began to feel his way around Batman's utility belt. _Geez, Penguin really is stupid_, Robin thought. _He should never have let us keep our belts._

Uh, Robin," Batman interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Other right."

"Oh, whoops." Robin began counting pockets on the correct side of the belt. "Got it!"

"Good work, chum. Now take that pellet and drop in into the chocolate."

"Right." Robin dropped the capsule. The moment it came in contact with the boiling chocolate, it expanded into a huge pile of foam that protected the Caped Crusaders from the heat.

"I always knew that anti-chocolate-fondue pill would come in handy someday," Batman commented as he pulled a knife from his utility belt and cut himself and Robin free.

"Holy Boy Scout motto," Robin muttered as he slid down the pile of foam and landed neatly on the ground.

Batman plunked down (a bit less gracefully) beside him. "To the Leonards' house!" he announced. "With a little luck, the Batmobile can overtake Penguin's car!"

* * *

><p>Luck was on their side. The Dynamic Duo arrived at the Leonards' mansion without seeing hide or hair (or umbrella or feather) of the Penguin. Parking the Batmobile in a secluded spot, the two crept closer to the edge of the Leonards' property. It was not yet midnight; Mr. and Mrs. Leonard were sitting in their living room, watching the nightly news on an enormous television screen.<p>

"Go check on the daughter," Batman ordered Robin. "Her room is at the back of the house on the far end."

"Got it." Robin decided not to ask how Batman already knew where the Leonards' daughter's room was. The man was just too nosy.

Like a shadow, Robin sneaked up to the house, scurried up a drain pipe, and crawled over the roof. Leaning down from the roof, Robin saw the girl fast asleep in her bed. However, she looked unnatural – she lay on her bed stiff as a board and nearly as unmoving as a corpse. Something was definitely about to happen. But what? And how?

Deftly flipping off the roof, Robin returned to Batman's side. "She's asleep. But it looks unnatural – she's really stiff."

Batman nodded. "Penguin should be here soon. The Leonards' usually set their alarm and go to bed after the news."

Robin raised his eyebrows. "How do you -?"

Batman cut him off. "Most adults go to bed after the news. You know, some people have work in the morning."

Robin smiled at that. "Right. Some people do. Not anyone I know, of course."

"Untrue. Lucius Fox and Commissioner Gordon go to work in the mornings, and you know them."

Robin sighed. Couldn't Batman take a joke? "Nevermind."

The duo passed another minute or two in silence. "Where is he?" Batman muttered, getting anxious.

"Ahhh!" Robin clamped his hands to his ears. "Do you hear that?" he hissed.

Batman was perplexed. "Hear what?"

"That awful noise! Ahhh!" Robin squeezed his head more tightly. "It's getting louder!"

"What's it sound like? It might be a clue."

"Horrible," Robin pouted. He was really annoyed that his ears were being tortured and Batman was perfectly fine.

"Could you be more specific?" the Dark Knight persisted.

"Really high pitched. Like it will break my eardrums."

"Fascinating."

"Maybe for you!"

As Robin sat there on the grass, covering his ears in agony, he noticed that the sound was no longer a consistent wail. It was coming in bursts now, some short and some longer. It was Morse Code!

"Batman," he whispered excitedly, "it's Morse Code!"

"The high-pitched noise?"

"Yes! It saying…." Robin paused while he concentrated on the code. Strangely, the noise hurt his ears less when he had something to concentrate on. "Get toucan. Come to gate."

"That's it?" Batman was stunned. That was a rather short message.

"Yes, but it's repeating it over and over again. It must be for the girl! Penguin is brainwashing her in her sleep!"

And lo and behold, a few moments later, the front door opened noiselessly and the Leonards' daughter stepped out, holding the jeweled toucan. In the living room, her parents continued to watch the nightly news, completely unaware that their daughter was out of bed and carting off a valuable piece of art.

The girl began to move down the front walk, dragging her right leg just as Dick had the night before. She was making a beeline for the stately iron gate that fronted the property – and was right next to the street.

Batman gripped Robin's shoulder. "Chum, can you help?"

Robin nodded, forcing himself to ignore the throbbing in his ears.

"Good. Protect the girl. I'll go after the Penguin." And without waiting for confirmation, Batman was gone.

Although Dick didn't remember anything about the night before, he knew he hadn't been hurt. The Leonards' daughter wouldn't require much saving.

Picking up a chunk of wood that had fallen from a nearby tree, Robin scampered over to the teenager. He adroitly plucked the toucan from her hands and replaced it with the piece of wood. Given that the two were about the same weight, the girl didn't even notice. After all, she was technically sleepwalking.

Robin followed the girl to the gate, where she gently placed the piece of wood on the ground, right outside the property. Her mission accomplished, she turned and went back to her house, dragging her right leg the entire way.

Robin followed her inside the house, slipping in just before she closed the door in his face. He watched her ascend the staircase. He contemplated following her, but decided it was more gentlemanly to check on her from outside her window. It wasn't proper for a gentleman to enter a lady's bedroom uninvited. Robin smiled to himself. _Alfred would be so proud of me_.

After watching the girl disappear into her bedroom, Robin realized he had no idea where the toucan belonged. Unlike Bruce, he didn't make a habit of snooping around the homes of Gotham's elite (of course, he wasn't invited to the homes of Gotham's elite with the same frequency Bruce was. Something about him not being drinking age). Robin decided to just stick the toucan on the floor next to the alarm control pad. The Leonards would surely see it there.

Robin had barely exited the house when he heard Mr. Leonard turn off the television and saunter over to the door to set the alarm. "What the -? Honey, how did this toucan get here?" he hollered into the next room.

"We bought it at the Audubon auction, remember?" Mrs. Leonard answered, exasperated.

"I know that. How did it end up at the front door?"

Mrs. Leonard sighed. "Who knows? But it's late, dear; just put it back and go to bed."

Mr. Leonard grumbled something unintelligible, but Robin heard him set the alarm and stalk off with the toucan. _Looks like that's taken care of_.

Climbing back to the roof, Robin leaned down again to peer into the teenager's bedroom. She was sleeping heavily but was unharmed. Dick knew from experience that she'd have a hard time waking up the next morning, but if that was the worst the Penguin dealt you, you were pretty lucky.

It was time to go help Batman.

* * *

><p>Batman had been patiently waiting in the shadows by the Leonards' front gate. A few agonizing minutes passed. And then, a sleek black car came slowly down the street. It stopped in front of the Leonards, the door opened, and a skinny man slipped out. He reached for the toucan and -.<p>

"Hey!"

"Quiet!" Penguin squawked from inside the sedan. "You want to wake up the whole neighborhood, you nincompoop?"

"But Penguin," the man insisted in a more subdued tone, "this ain't the bird. It's just a hunk of wood."

"I'm surrounded by idiots," Penguin groused, lugging his corpulent frame out of the car. With his umbrella, he whacked aside his minion and bent down to retrieve his prize.

"Wah, wah, What! It is just a piece of wood!"

"I told you so," the minion replied, earning him another whack with the umbrella.

"You do remember that stealing is illegal, don't you Penguin?" Batman asked as he materialized from the shadows.

Penguin gasped. "But you're supposed to be dead!"

"Don't count your successes before they hatch, Penguin."

"Well you can't arrest me for anything," Penguin insisted. "It's not illegal to stop your car and retrieve a piece of abandoned wood."

"No, but it was illegal to steal all those other jeweled birds. And to drug children. That's contributing to the delinquency of minors."

"It's not illegal if you don't get caught!" Penguin chirped. "Get him, boys!"

Instantly, a pile of thugs was all over Batman. He was making fairly short work of them when Robin leaped over the fence and landed right on top of Penguin.

"You brat!" Penguin spluttered from where he lay pinned to the ground. "Let me up this instant. I am a man of dignity!"

Robin laughed. "You are not. You're a man of crime, and I don't have to listen to you!"

"Oh no?" And with that, the Penguin turned a knob on his umbrella.

"Ahhhh!" Robin screeched, clutching his ears and toppling off the Penguin in agony.

"Good to know the Boy Wonder has wonderful hearing," Penguin quipped as he scrambled into his car, a few thugs leaping in behind him. Tires squealing, the car barreled away, mercifully taking the dreadful high-pitched noise with it.

Collecting himself, Robin dashed over to help Batman finish tying up the goons who hadn't managed to get away. "Sorry, Batman; I almost had him and I let him get away. That darn noise!"

"It's okay, chum; we'll get him before he can fly the coop."

"We will?" Robin brightened, although he noticed all of the thugs were still unconscious.

"We will," Batman assured him, "because the Penguin left behind a clue."

* * *

><p><strong>I got the idea about the high-pitched noise from an article about how only teenager can hear certain cell phone ringtones. Apparently, there are frequencies adults cannot hear but kids can.<strong>

**I will try really, REALLY hard to update in a more timely fashion. Next chapter should be the conclusion.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry it has taken me forever to finish this story. I just wasn't feeling it for a long time, but I have now finally decided to finish it (despite a lack of inspiration). My apologies for the negligence.**

* * *

><p>"What is it?" Robin asked.<p>

"This." Batman held a slender object up to the light.

"A feather!" Robin gasped.

Batman nodded and began walking towards the Batmobile. Once inside the duo gazed at the feather, properly illuminated thanks to the vehicle's superior lighting system.

"Do you know what species this is from?" Batman asked Robin.

Robin scrutinized the feather. It was a strange brownish shade the he wasn't familiar with. "I-I-I don't think I've ever seen a feather like that before," he admitted, a bit disappointed in himself for not knowing.

"Cheer up, chum," Batman soothed. "I wouldn't expect you to have seen it. If I'm not mistaken, this feather comes from a Dodo bird."

"A dodo! But they've been extinct for years!"

"Right. But no one said this feather came from a living bird," Batman reminded Robin.

Robin's eyes widened. "The Audubon Museum!"

* * *

><p>Back at the Gotham City Audubon Museum, Sandra Higgins, director of the Junior Audubon Society, was <em>finally<em> getting ready to leave for the night. Tonight had been much busier than expected. First she had the monthly Junior Audubon Society meeting, then she had to take care of a mountain of paperwork (including putting together and processing the application for Dick Grayson; if Bruce Wayne showed interest in your group, you didn't waste any time getting him on the hook!), then she might have nodded off for a few minutes (or 20) during the evening news. All that meant it was after midnight before she was making her last rounds at the museum. She really couldn't imagine an errant teenager would have stayed so many hours after the meeting (no one loved taxidermied birds that much), but she felt it was her duty. And Sandra Higgins always did her duty!

Not a feather was out of place until Sandra approached the extinct birds' exhibit. The museum's precious dodo was off kilter; worse, when she approached, she saw it was missing a few feathers at the back. Surely none of the bird-loving Junior Audubon Society members would have done this!

As she sorrowfully picked up a few stray feathers, Sandra noticed the carpet of the exhibit floor was peeling up. As she moved to push it back in place, her hand caught on a notch in the floorboards.

_What in the world?_ She thought, slipping her finger into the notch and tugging.

The floorboard came up easily – much too easily. _Shouldn't this have been nailed down? Loose floorboards could be a safety hazard for employees designing the exhibits!_ Sandra knew she would have to make a note of this for the director. Safety first!

But she quickly learned that this wasn't a simple loose floorboard. As she peeled the board back, something shiny caught the light. Taking out her flashlight (good for being sure Junior Audubon Society members weren't hiding in dark corners after hours), Sandra shone it into the hole.

"Great horned owls!" she gasped as she pulled a gold, bejeweled bird out of the floor. "The stolen birds from the auction!"

"Tut, tut, tut, Ms Higgins," squawked a new voice, causing Sandra to whip around, bird in hand, to face the Penguin. "Did you really have to go poking around the dodo exhibit? I'm afraid you'll have to become extinct now, too."

Before Sandra could fully process what the Penguin had said, two muscular goons had grabbed her and started to tie her up.

"It is most unfortunate that I shall have to kill a fellow lover of fine fowl, but you really shouldn't have disturbed my nest."

Sandra's eyed narrowed in anger. Although she had been surprised at first, she was now furious. That some criminal should pollute the Audubon Museum with stolen goods - and that he should do it using the name of such a majestic species of bird – was unconscionable. The nerve of some people!

"You brood parasite," she hissed, "dragging the museum into your criminal scheme!"

Penguin glared haughtily at her from behind his monocle. "Yes, I am a bit of a cuckoo, aren't I?"

"You despicable -"

"But I needed a secure place to store my luscious loot," Penguin continued, ignoring the momentary interruption. "And where better than this magnificent museum that had so effectively kept these brilliant birds out of my clutches before the auction? This pinnacle of charity and upstanding citizenry – no one would think to look here!"

"We would think to look here, you bird brain!" shouted Robin, as he and Batman rushed into the room, batarangs at the ready.

"What! How could you possibly have known?"

"Next time, Penguin, don't ruffle the feathers of the dodo bird," Batman advised, punching out a goon.

As his eyes widened in shock, Penguin turned to look at the stuffed dodo. "Traitor," he growled at it when he noticed the missing feathers. One must have stuck to him when he was hiding the loot for safekeeping. Curses!

As Batman and Robin made quick work of his thugs, Penguin moved behind the still-bound Sandra Higgins and poised the blade of his trick umbrella at her throat. "Back off, Caped Crusaders, or the bird lover gets it!"

"Surely a gentleman such as yourself would not be so cruel as to kill a lady, Penguin," Batman stated calmly. "Particularly one who shares your interest in birds."

"I won't have to kill her if you dopey do-gooders let me fly the coup."

"I'm afraid we can't do that. You have terrorized the city with your nefarious thievery and you must pay."

Penguin moved his blade a little closer to Sandra's throat. Batman and Robin tightened their muscles in anticipation of the flying leaps they were about to take.

"Then you - "

Penguin was suddenly cut off by the distinctive hoo-hoo of the elusive Gotham City Horned Owl, which (despite its majesty) was sadly nearing extinction due to loss of habitat.

Penguin turned in wonder to look behind him, from whence the distinctive call seemed to have come. "Can it be?" he murmured, excitement building within him despite the circumstances. It would be a rare treat to see a Gotham City Horned Owl.

Sandra took quick advantage to Penguin's momentary distraction to stomp hard on his foot with her high heel. As the villain screamed and moved to grab his foot with both hands, Sandra took off. Sadly, she didn't make it very far before her tied-up legs caused her to fall on her face, but she had managed to evade Penguin's grasp.

As Robin rushed to Sandra's side to cut her bonds and provide a Bat-ice-pack for her face, Batman collared the Penguin. As he and his goons were led to the waiting police cars, Penguin kept asking to see the owl. "I must! I simply must see the Gotham City Horned Owl!"

"There will be plenty of time to study owls in jail, Penguin," Batman replied dispassionately as the squawking villain was led away.

"What I don't understand, Batman, is how a Gotham City Horned Owl even got inside the museum," Commissioner Gordon said as he joined the Caped Crusader next to the ambulance where EMTs were checking Sandra Higgins' nose for possible breakages. "Doesn't the museum only house stuffed birds?"

Batman beamed with pride. "There never was any owl, Commissioner. It was just Robin throwing his voice and practicing his bird calls."

"Well done, Boy Wonder!"

Robin blushed a little. "Thank you, Commissioner."

"Yes, well done, Robin," added Sandra. "You saved my life and I will always be grateful." Without warning, she leaned over and gave Robin a kiss on the cheek. He blushed even harder.

"You ought to join the Junior Audubon Society," Sandra added. "We could use a member who's a bird-call expert."


End file.
